


the way things change

by ShyAudacity



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Jughead Jones, Bisexual Archie Andrews, Domestic Fluff, Good Parent Fred Andrews, Homeless Archie, Homeless Jughead Jones, Homelessness, Hospitals, Hurt Archie Andrews, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned Mary Andrews, New York City, On the Run, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Running Away, Sort Of, i guess idk, its domestic as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 22:20:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15543378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyAudacity/pseuds/ShyAudacity
Summary: Archie is in a gas station counting his change for the sixth time when someone behind him strikes up a conversation.“You know it doesn’t matter how many times you count it, it’s still gonna be the same.”He looks over his shoulder, scoffs at the kid in the beanie as the words kick in.“You think I don’t know that?” Archie says, thumbing through his change again.He’s only been on his own for three weeks and he’s already out of money. He was in Chicago living with his mom, getting ready to go to college in the fall. Running away was never the plan, but then Archie got the feeling that shit was gonna go down if he stuck around much longer, so he bolted, packed a bag in the middle of the night and hasn’t looked back since. Saying that he's in way over his head would be an understatement.ORArchie runs away from home and meets Jughead in New York.





	the way things change

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to get this posted took too long. I'll come back and make edits later.
> 
> Unbeta'd and title from Rivers and Roads by The Head and The Heart.

Archie is in a gas station counting his change for the sixth time when someone behind him strikes up a conversation.

“You know it doesn’t matter how many times you count it, it’s still gonna be the same.”

He looks over his shoulder, scoffs at the kid in the beanie as the words kick in.

“You think I don’t know that?” Archie says, thumbing through his change again.

He’s only been on his own for three weeks and he’s already out of money. He was in Chicago living with his mom, getting ready to go to college in the fall. Running away was never the plan, but then Archie got the feeling that shit was gonna go down if he stuck around much longer, so he bolted, packed a bag in the middle of the night and hasn’t looked back since. Saying that he's in way over his head would be an understatement. 

“How much do you need?”

“Five- shit, six cents for a small coffee.”

Beanie kid digs around in the pocket of his jacket, and Archie almost makes a comment about the fact it’s nearly ninety degrees outside before reminding himself that he’s in a jacket _and_ his blue jeans. He drops a nickel into Archie’s hand after a minute.

“Sorry, that’s all I got.”

“Nah, it’s close enough, thanks, uh…”

“Oh, Jughead.”

Archie walks up to the counter, drops his change and walks away before the cashier can count it closely enough. The coffee is shitty, but it’s better than nothing. Jughead stops him as he’s on his way out the door.

“You got anywhere to go?”

Archie scoffs again. “Is it that obvious?”

Jughead holds his fingers less than a quarter inch apart, making an apologetic face.

“Just a little.”

He sighs, shaking his head. He must smell worse than he realized.

“C’mon,” Jughead says, “I know a place where you can crash if you’re interested.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.”

Archie feels wary, tightens his hand around the strap of his backpack. He’s lived in a big city long enough to know that you shouldn’t always trust the people you just met… even if they gave you money.

“Oh, relax, dude. This isn’t Sweeney Todd, it’s not like I’m gonna slit your throat once I get you alone. I’m just as homeless as you are. Besides, the sun is going down soon, you might as well set up camp somewhere, right?”

Archie rolls his eyes, thinks about it for a minute, then agrees, follows him two blocks up the street. They make small talk on the way there but he decides to keep his reasons for running away to himself, that’s a conversation he’s not ready to have, at least not right now.

Jughead takes him to a rundown apartment building right on the edge of New York City, and Archie wonders for a minute if he’s actually renting a room here. The wall mounted fan in the corner is barely putting out any cool air, but he’s grateful for it regardless.

He’s about to ask Jughead what the hell they’re doing there when a middle-aged black woman in a white t-shirt and jeans comes out of the office, ponytail swinging behind her. She smiles when she looks at Jughead.

“Hey, back so soon?”

“Yeah, I would’ve been gone longer, but this guy wouldn’t stop following me,” He jokes. “He needs a place to stay, I was thinking he could room with me, if it’s alright with you.”

“I don’t see why that wouldn’t work,” She says, sticking her hand out. “I’m Sierra McCoy, the landlord, and you are?”

“Uh, Archie Andrews. Are you really okay with me staying here?”

“Hon, let me ask you something, how old are you?”

“Seventeen.” He says, almost shamefully. “Why?”

“My son was around your age when he ran away and I never heard from him again. I’d like to think that someone was nice enough to take pity on him and give him somewhere to stay. Ever since then I’ve kept a studio apartment on the first floor vacated in case someone like you comes along and needs somewhere to stay, even if it’s only temporary. So, stay as long as you need, but you’ll have to room with Jughead here since I only have the one room, understood?”

Archie nods, “Thank you, Ms. McCoy.”

“Please, call me Sierra, we are neighbors after all.”

Jughead then leads him down the hall and around the corner. He pushes the door open and it’s already more than what Archie was expecting.

There’s a small kitchen area in the corner to his right, a door that he can only imagine is the bathroom on his left, and a lumpy mattress in the middle of the floor, an equally lumpy looking couch pushed against the far wall by the windows. There’s a few ratty blankets shrewn across the floor and no signs of an AC, but it’s better than any other place that he’s slept in the last few weeks. 

“So you… live here?”

“Well, squatting, technically, but yeah.” Jughead says, leaning against the counter.

Archie drops his bag at his feet, still stunned by the whole thing.

“How’d you manage that?”

“Josie, Sierra’s daughter, she manages the Starbucks a few streets over, I fell asleep at one of the tables a couple weeks ago and she took pity on me, brought me back here to her mom. She lives in the building, you’ll probably meet her at some point. I just got lucky for once, I guess.”

He nods, thinking to himself, _I’m glad that you did._

The first thing Archie does is take a shower, standing there longer than he needs to, just thankful that the water is not coming from a gas station sink for once. He didn’t realize how much he missed something as simple as washing his hair. Once he’s done, he puts his jeans back on and the one dark tank he’d managed to stuff in bag at the last second.

He’s drying his hair off with a hand towel when he walks out of the bathroom and finds Jughead sitting on the bed, his legs kicked out in front of him and typing away at a laptop.

“You have a computer?”

“Josie’s old one, actually, she let me have it after I told her I’m a writer; I swear I owe that girl my life. Did you wanna take the bed or-?”

“Oh, no, no- you were here first, I’ll take the couch.”

“Alright- by the way, if any of the tenants ask, we’re family friends of the McCoy’s. If people find out that we’re squatting then it’s bad news for everyone.”

Archie nods again, making himself comfortable on the couch. It’s barely even nine o’clock, but he can already feel the events of the day catching up to him, pulling his eyelids shut. That night he falls asleep easier than he has since he left Chicago, just grateful to have a roof over his head.

***

Josie’s room is across the hall, and two days in she invites Archie and Jughead into her place, says it’s too hot to be walking around town for hours at a time. The space isn’t much bigger than their own, but Archie can tell that she’s really tried to make it her own. There are lights strung up along the walls, colorful scarves used as makeshift curtains, but Archie keeps looking over at the guitar in the corner.

As much as he’d wanted to, he hadn’t brought his with him, thought it would have taken up too much space or just gotten stolen trying to lug it around with him everywhere. Now that he’s around one again, he’s itching to get his fingers around the neck, to feel the strings under his fingertips again.

“Do you play?”

“Sorry- what?”

Josie laughs a little, “I said, do you play?”

“Oh, yeah, a little. I write my own stuff sometimes, but I don’t know if it’s actually any good.”

She pulls the guitar off the stand, brings it over to him.

“Play me something.”

“Oh, no, I don’t really-.”

“Dude, her mom is letting you live here rent free, I’d play her a song if I were you.” Jughead interjects, an almost smug look on his face. 

Archie glares at him before he takes the guitar, strums a couple of chords before he actually starts to play anything. He begins to play the song he wrote right after sophomore year started; when he closes his eyes, for a moment he feels as though he’s back in his room in Chicago, just playing for the hell of it.  

He half sings half mumbles his way through the lyrics, feeling insecure for some reason; Archie looks up when he’s done and finds both Jughead and Josie gaping at him.

“What? Was it bad?”

Josie nearly chokes, “B- bad? Dude, that was great.”

His face pulls into a grin, “Really?”

“Yes, really! And I don’t say that lightly, either, you’ve got something special there.”

Archie looks over at Jughead who nods at him, smiling right back.

“You know what, you should play outside of Starbucks.”

“Really? Is that even allowed- like don’t you need a permit for that or some shit?”

“I’m the manager, if somebody’s got somethin’ to say about it they can come find me. Besides, with talent like that, you’ll be able to scrap up some money, it’ll help get you back on your feet.”

Archie thinks about it for a couple days before taking her up on the offer. It’s weird at first, playing on street corner for people who aren’t even paying attention to him half the time. Then, some random girl drops five dollars and her phone number into the case, and Archie decides that he could get used to this.

It’s a good gig, for the most part. Josie always brings him water when the heat is almost too much to bare, lets him cool off and clean up inside when he needs to. All in all, things could be worse.

Then, two months in, Archie gets jumped on his walk back to the apartment. He’s less than two blocks away when some guy hits him in the back of the head, kicks him in the ribs, then takes off with his money _and_ Josie’s guitar.

It takes Archie a minute to pull himself off the ground, winces when the movement hurts his ribs. As far as he can tell, nothing is broken but _my god_ it hurts to breathe and the side of his face is definitely going to have a new shiner in the morning. Part of his jacket is hanging off his shoulder, but he doesn’t bother to fix it, knows it’s only going to hurt.

Ten minutes later, after a lot of stopping and starting and labored breathing, Archie finally makes it back to the apartment mostly in one piece.

Jughead looks up at him when he comes in, eyes going wide.   

“Is that blood?”

Archie stills, unsure of how to respond.

“No?”

“That’s not a question you can answer with another question.” Jughead bites.

Archie let’s Jughead manhandle him onto the bed and hold a wet cloth against his temple because apparently he really _is_ bleeding. He keeps his gaze focused on the floor, trying to avoid the way that Jughead keeps looking at him. Just as well, the two of them have never been this close in proximity before and it’s making him feel a little weird, but not in a bad way.

“Josie will understand about the guitar,” He says quietly. “It’s not like you’re the first one to ever get mugged before.”

Archie shrugs, hums dejectedly.

“I know this isn’t what you wanna hear right now, but it could have been a lot worse. At least you came home with your nose and all your teeth intact.”

The way Jughead says _home_ gives Archie a warm feeling in his chest.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“You can take the bed tonight, if you want. I doubt that it’s much better than the couch, but at least it’s a bed.”

“You had it first, I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed, Jug… but I’m down to share if you are.”

Jughead was right when he said the bed wouldn’t be much better, Archie’s glad to have a pillow under his head opposed to the stuffing that keeps trying to force it’s way out of the split seam in the sofa. He’s curled onto his side, arms crossed over his chest and halfway asleep when Jughead speaks up.

“Arch?”

“Hm?”

“You never told me how you got here… why you left home so early.”

Shit.

Well, the conversation how to happen sometime, and he’s more than wide awake now.

Archie pushes himself up on his hands, leaning back against the wall. He’s not exactly sure how to start this conversation.

“I was living in Chicago with my Mom, before this. She’s a good mom, she is, but she’s also kind of conservative, has a lot traditional values as far as marriage and stuff like that. Then, she found out about… me, liking boys, too and- I panicked, to say the least. I thought she would kick me out. So I packed a bag, bought a bus ticket and ended up here. I was gonna go to my Dad’s but- I don’t know, I thought he’d be ashamed of me.”

Jughead doesn’t say anything right away, and for a moment Archie worries that he’s going to have to find some other place to stay.

“I kicked myself out, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my foster parents wanted me gone, so I still skipped town… left my sister behind, too. I couldn’t exactly take her with me, much as I wanted to.”

“That must be hard.” Archie says, settling into the bed again. “Do you miss her?”

“Everyday. I just hope that she isn’t mad at me.”

“For leaving?”

“For leaving her alone.”

Archie isn’t sure how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. They nod off shortly after that; Archie feels more relaxed, more content with himself now that he’s gotten everything off his chest. He didn’t realize that holding in this secret was eating at him so much, almost wishes that he’d said something sooner.

In the morning, he wakes up with Jughead pressed against his back, and Archie decides that he could get used to this.

***

A week after he’s come out, Jughead shakes him awake at six in the morning in an absolute panic.

“C’mon, Arch, get up, _we gotta go._ ”

Archie doesn’t ask why, just goes with it; the fear in Jughead’s voice is enough to make him fly out of bed and pack all of his shit into a bag as quick as he can.

He follows Jughead’s lead as they scramble out of the building, keeping their heads down once they’ve hit the street, not making eye contact with anyone. They keep walking for nearly forty minutes, smack dab in the middle of the city; its only then that Archie finally asks why they had to leave in such a hurry.

“I saw a cop outside the window,” Jughead mutters. “I thought he was gonna come in and we’d get picked up for squatting so- I don’t know, I panicked.”

“You can’t just runaway every time that there’s trouble.”

“Sure I can… I did it before and it worked out in my favor.”

Archie stops mid sidewalk, grabbing Jughead’s elbow in the process; Jughead can’t even look him in the eye.

“We should go back, Jug. It’s a good set up.”

“Did you forget the part where there was a _cop_ hanging around the building?”

“It’s New York City, there’s cops everywhere. Look, I know that it freaks you out- it freaks me out too, but it’s the best thing that we’ve got going for us right now. As soon as Sierra realizes that we’re gone she’s gonna offer it to someone else. Please, Jughead, let’s go home, before it’s too late.”

Jughead stays quiet, continuously scuffing his already worn-down shoe against the cement. He bites his lip, finally looking up at Archie with blank eyes for only a moment before looking down again, nodding lightly.

Archie wraps an arm around Jughead’s shoulder, steering him back in the direction that they came. By some shred of grace, Archie finds eight dollars crumpled in the pocket of his backpack; it’s just enough to pay the bus fare needed to get back to the apartment. He keeps his arm around Jughead even after they’ve gotten onto the bus, it’s the best that he’s got as a means of comfort right now.

They’re both exhausted once they get back to their room, despite the fact that it isn’t even eight in the morning yet. Archie strips out of his jacket and shirt before falling back onto the bed with a sigh and Jughead does the same, using his shoulder as a pillow.

Archie isn’t tired enough to fall asleep just yet, but he can see the way that Jughead is fighting sleep, how his eyelids are getting heavier by the second; after being so on edge all morning, he can only imagine crashing after an emotional high like that. Archie gently tugs the grey beanie off his head, dropping it onto the mattress and moving his fingers slowly through the mess of black hair.

“Go to sleep, Jug… we’re safe here.” He says in a hushed tone, soft as he can manage.

A few minutes later, Jughead’s eyes slip shut and stay that way, and Archie feels himself begin to drift off as well. After such an eventful morning, they stay in bed the rest of the day, trying to ignore the idea of having leave for good someday, having to leave each other.

***

Things change between them after that. There’s more touching, more sharing of the bed and Archie can’t put his finger on it, but somethings different. Then, after he watches Jughead full body laugh at a joke that Josie made, Archie feels his heart swell and he starts to realize that _he’s in love._

Early October, Jughead and Archie get a little drunk with Josie and then stumble over each other back into their makeshift home. Archie kisses Jughead, pressing him up against the door before he can convince himself not to. They fall onto the bed together, and it doesn’t go any further that than, but that’s fine.

All Archie really wants is to hold him.  

***

For the second day in a row, Jughead wakes up with a headache, fever, a wicked cough, and Archie can’t help but to get worried.

“Some kid sneezed in my face the other day,” He says, voice raspy. “It’s probably nothing.”

Jughead insists that Archie should go out and at least try to strap together some cash because they have a grand total of ten dollars between the two of them and the sink quit working two days ago. He’d ask sierra to fix it but then she might have to explain to someone else why she has two teenage boys squatting in a shitty New York City apartment, ergo, bad news for everyone involved.

He goes out, sings his songs on a street corner makes a whopping twelve dollars in two hours and decides to call it a day because he can’t stop worrying about Jughead.

On some level, he knows that he’s overreacting; Jughead’s a smart guy, he can handle himself alone for a few hours with a cold, but something about all of this just doesn’t feel right.

When he gets back to the apartment, Archie stops four feet short of the door; it’s cracked open. With baited breath, he pushes the open the rest of the way, expecting to see chaos unfolded in front of him, but it’s not like that at all.

All their stuff is there, nothing has been touched, but there’s no Jughead.

Okay, _now_ it’s time to panic.

Archie curses under his breath before rushing out the door again, taking off down the sidewalk. The wind has picked up over the course of the morning; the mid October air bites at his cheeks just enough to make him wonder if Jughead had been wearing a jacket when he left. _Shit._

He goes to the coffee house first, his worry increases even more when Josie says that she hasn’t seen him, then heads back to the apartment, wonders if maybe he just missed him somehow. Jughead still isn’t there, Sierra hasn’t seen him either, and Archie is running out of ideas of where to look.

After twenty minutes of panicked walking, Archie finds him tucked inside the entrance of an alleyway, wheezing and delirious with fever. Archie drops to his knees next to Jughead, grabbing his shoulders. He’s in a flimsy flannel and jeans and- fuck, _where are his shoes?_

“Dude, what the hell are you doing out here? You should be at the apartment.”

“I don’t- don’t have any money.”

Archie places his hands on Jughead’s neck and _Jesus Christ_ he’s like a furnace. His panic practically doubles.

“Hey, Juggie, c’mon, look at me, we gotta get you some help, or at least back home, alright?”

Jughead doesn’t answer, just starts coughing harshly, his whole body shaking because of it. His whole face begins to turn red; Archie curses under his breath again, then pulls his jacket off and pulls it around Jughead’s shoulders when the wind picks up once again. Jughead can’t stop coughing no matter how hard he tries, and Archie realizes that this is beyond his abilities of helping.

He digs around in his pocket for that trac phone that Sierra gave him if they were ever in any real trouble. Archie all but begs for an ambulance to come, says they’re somewhere near the corner of third and Maine; Jughead is a bit more lucid when Archie gets his attention again, doesn’t sound as much like his coughs are trying to kill him.

“I saw this coming.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Me-.” He coughs, “Meeting an untimely demise.”

Archie just gapes at him, “So why didn’t you try to avoid it?”

“I d-didn’t want to believe it would actually happen.”

He’s not sure that he wants to hear where Jughead is going with this, but Archie lets him continue anyway.

“I didn’t get k-kicked out, I aged out of the system.”

Archie feels his stomach bottom out.

“My foster parents only wanted my sister. I-I didn’t want to see the look on her face when they broke the news, so I left.”

“Jughead-.”

“You have to find her,” His breath is quickening. “You have to find her for me. Archie, you have- have to tell her I’m s-sorry.”

Archie can hear the sirens now, searching for something hidden away.

“Tell her yourself.” He says, both firm and afraid. “You’re gonna be fine, alright? Just keep talking to me.”

Jughead starts losing his senses again; his eyes glaze over as he tries to push Archie’s hands off of him. He falls into a coughing fit once again, choking out a mess of bile into the space between his legs when it becomes too much for his body to handle.

The ambulance rushes past them on the street, and Archie feels like somebody just knocked the wind out of him. Not knowing what else to do, he pulls one of Jughead’s arms over his shoulders before pulling him up, moving out into the middle of the sidewalk, screaming himself hoarse as the ambulance turns the corner.

“Hey! Hey, _I need some help!”_

But nobody listens, nobody even bothers to look up, as if nothing was even said. It’s like survival of the fittest has met his worst nightmare; he can’t say that he’s surprised, who the hell wants to help a couple of raggedy looking teenagers. So, Archie does the only thing that he can think of, he starts running, moving as quickly as he can with Jughead still a dead weight draped over his shoulder.

Jughead has started to wheeze again, looks like he’s on the verge of losing consciousness; Archie doesn’t want to imagine how things would play out if he lets that happen. He keeps tugging him along, feet dragging against the sidewalk until Archie loses his footing, sends both of them to the ground, rips a pair of holes in his jeans.

He’s looking at Jughead’s nearly blue face, about half a second from crying right then and there when he hears it, the siren. Archie looks up, sees the ambulance circling back around, a shining light amidst dark clouds. His whole body sags with relief.

Everything is a blur after that; the next thing he knows he’s in the back of an ambulance, staring down at Jughead whose been strapped to a gurney, an oxygen mask around his face, silently praying that the both of them make it out of this somehow.

 _Please_ , _please don’t let this go as badly as I think it will._

***

Once he’s finally admitted to the Emergency Room, Jughead’s temperature is a scalding 105.2; it takes nearly forty-five minutes to come back with a Pneumonia diagnosis. They set him up in a room on the third floor, it’s gonna be at least a day or two before he’s allowed to leave. 

“It’s a good thing you got him here when you did,” The nurse says, triple checking his IV’s. “Much longer with no meds and things would have been a lot worse. Did you say he was a friend of yours?”

 _Something like that_ , Archie thinks to himself, but doesn’t actually respond.

Jughead has been floating in and out of consciousness since he was admitted, murmuring occasionally, or at least trying to; Archie keeps squeezing his hand periodically, just reminding him that he’s there.

It takes him an hour to work up the courage to call his dad, another twenty to dial without hanging up halfway through. In the end, he gets his Dad’s voicemail- he’s not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing in this situation, but it’s what he’s got. He leaves a short message, doesn’t go into much detail, just asks him to come to the hospital, says that he’s sorry.

Archie picks up Jughead’s hand again once he’s back in the room, holds it against his cheek; nothing that he’s tried has been able to warm him up, his fingers are as cold as always.

“Some mess that we’ve gotten ourselves into, huh Jug?” He mutters, feeling tears prick at his eyes.

Archie drops their conjoined hands back to the bed but doesn’t let go. He settles back into the chair, trying to get rid of this anxious ache that’s formed in the middle of his chest. He drifts off without meaning to, dreaming of a world where all of this- where today did not happen. 

He’s still got his hand curled around Jughead’s when he wakes up, but someone else is there now, a mystery man talking quietly with Jughead, both of them obviously unaware that Archie is coming back to his senses.

“Nightmare on Elm Street has always been my favorite.”

“That’s a good one,” Jughead’s scratchy voice says. “But I’ve always been a fan of the original Scream, the lead guy kind of looks of my dad.”

Mystery man laughs and- wait, no, Archie knows that laugh. He could place it anywhere despite not having heard it in nearly a year. Archie sits up suddenly, eyes wide at the sight of his Dad and Jughead talking like a pair of old friends.

It might just be one of the strangest things that he’s ever seen.

“Dad?”

Fred smiles at him, “Hey, Arch. I was wondering when you’d wake up; you always did tend to sleep like the dead.”

Archie just gapes at him, catching Jughead’s eye who just shrugs at him, smiling almost smugly.

Fred pushes out of his chair, “Jughead, would you mind if Archie and I step out for a minute?” 

“Sure, it’s not like I got anywhere else to be.” He jokes, coughing lightly at the end.

Fred looks at Archie again, cocks his head towards open door; Archie scrambles to follow him out into the foyer. He keeps his head down, wringing his hands together, and he barely makes it twenty seconds before his bottom lip starts to tremble, the tears trying to take over.

“Arch,” Fred says softly, making him look up. “C’mere.”

A stilted whine leaves Archie’s throat as he steps into his fathers open arms, relaxes just a little when he feels Fred’s hand cradle the back of his head. His breath begins to rattle as it leaves his chest.

“Oh, Archie. My sweet kid, I was worried sick.”

“You’re n-not mad?”

“Mad?” Fred laughs, stepping back. “Kiddo, I’m just glad that you’re alive. In fact, knowing that you had someone looking out for you this whole time might just be the best thing that I’ve heard in months.”

Archie looks over his shoulder at Jughead, confused for a moment.

“Did he-.”

“No, he didn’t say why you left, made it sound like that’s conversation for another day.”

Archie nods, quietly grateful.

“I’m really glad that you’re here, Dad.” He says in a hushed tone.

Fred just smiles, pulls him in again for a hug.

“So am I, Archie… you have no know idea how much I’ve missed you.”

***

It’s decided fairly quickly that Jughead is going to come back to Riverdale with Archie and Fred; Jughead tries to refuse and Fred shuts him down.

“You kept my son alive for months, believe me, I’d be more than happy to give you somewhere to live. Besides, I don’t think that Archie would be too fond of letting you go.

Once Jughead is released, the three of them go back to the apartment and pack up the handful of things that they have. Archie and Jughead say goodbye to Josie and Sierra on their way out, hug them tightly and say thank you for everything they’ve done to keep them safe.

Sierra presses her phone number into Archie’s palm before he leaves, saying:

“If you ever need anything don’t be afraid to call me. You know exactly where to find me if you feel like taking off again.”

“Don’t worry,” he tells her. “I’m going home.”

This time, he’s sure of it.

***

Jughead’s leg is shaking so much that it’s rattling the whole table, Archie presses his foot against his calf under the table, trying to calm him down.

“Relax, Jug,” he says. “She’ll be here, they’re probably just running late.”

Jughead nods, sighs heavily. “Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right.”

As it would turn out, Jughead and his sister Jellybean grew up just outside of Riverdale, not more than twenty minutes from where Fred lives. It had taken him a while to work up the courage to call his sister, afraid that she’d be mad at him; Archie was there when he finally did it, held his hand through the whole thing.

It’s been a little weird being at home again after being gone for nearly six months, but he’s glad to be back, glad to have Jughead there too. In some ways its like they never left New York because they’re still sharing a room, still sharing the bed most nights, too.

Now, after two months of practically begging, Jellybean’s new foster parents are finally bringing her for a visit. They’ve all agreed to meet up at Pop’s for lunch, if they ever arrive that is. 

“You called last night to confirm, right?” Fred asks.

“Well, yeah, but-.”

“Then they’ll be here.” He says, sure as can be.

Jughead nods again, his shoulders losing some of their tension.

Archie smiles watching Jughead relax under his father’s words; admittedly, he’d been worried tat first that Jughead and Fred wouldn’t get along, that they’d butt heads and he’d be forced to pick between the two of them. Luckily, it was the exact opposite of that. The two of them spent so much time talking about movies and books and anything else hat Archie often found it hard to keep up with them.

He’s about to suggest another plate of fries when the bell above the door rings; Jughead whips around, scrambling to get up when he sees a familiar patch of dark hair enter the diner.

Jellybean is exactly how Archie imagined she’d be; wavy, black hair that just barely touches her shoulders, an old band t-shirt with jeans, and scuffed boots. It’s almost uncanny how much she looks like Jughead.

She looks over at Jughead in the middle of the floor, eyes growing wide.

“Juggie!” She exclaims, running at him and throwing her arms around his waist.

Jughead cradles her head, holding her against his chest and looking as though he may cry out of pure joy.

“Oh my god,” he says. “I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

Archie gets a warm feeling in his chest just watching them; it grows when Fred slinks an arm around his shoulder.

“Have I ever told you how glad I am that you’re my kid?”

Archie smiles, says, “Everyday, Dad.”

Sometimes it takes leaving to figure out where you’re supposed to be; but right now, Archie knows with a shadow of a doubt that everyone is right where they should be, home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments/Kudos are encouraged and appreciated. You can leave a prompt if you want to. Thanks again for reading, have a great day!


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